


The Enchanted Forest

by bethaboo



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: 25 Days of Christmas, Christmas, Ficlets, Fluffy, M/M, Sappy, and some mild smut, pretty much every holiday cliche I can stuff in, probably some profanity, there's some chapters that aren't holiday-oriented tho
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-03
Updated: 2015-12-18
Packaged: 2018-05-04 16:26:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 8,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5340764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bethaboo/pseuds/bethaboo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>for Layne's 25 Days of Christmas Challenge. Each chapter is a 500 word peek into the lives of Louis Tomlinson and Harry Styles, primary teachers. They meet during the holidays and find that every year Christmas is extra special for them. A relationship that's not always easy, but always filled with love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you Layne for putting this great challenge together. Like the summary says, every chapter is 500 words (no more and no less) and is a bit of a snapshot into different points of Harry and Louis' lives.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> prompt for this chapter was a picture of an old-fashioned train

Louis hates this fucking train.

He’s a little wet, his skin damp and shivery beneath his soggy jumper and jeans, and a lot cold, his teeth clacking together every single damn time he tries to close his mouth.

His head is practically thumping along with every sour note his forth form class sings and with every rickety metallic jerk of the train on its track as it takes them ever-closer to the Enchanted Forest.

Louis has spent the last hour trying to find a silver lining in the clouds that decided to dump freezing rain over him and his class while they were waiting in the line to board this godforsaken train to hell.

Hell might even be preferable, Louis thinks with a sour irony, to the freezing nightmare this has become.

“Just take the class to the Enchanted Forest,” Louis imitates his principal, an annoyingly chirpy blond man who Louis is convinced starches his polo shirts. “It’ll be a real cinch! A bit of extra money right before the holidays!”

The students themselves aren’t a bother normally, but the kind employees on the train handed out hot chocolate, Christmas cookies  _and_ candy canes before the train even left the station and now they’re vibrating at practically the speed of sound. While singing “Santa Claus is Coming to Town,” at the top of their lungs.

“Excuse me, are you cold?”

Louis glances up from where he’s been contemplating how many candy canes he’d have to ingest to spend the rest of the train ride in a sugar coma. The boy—nearly a man, Louis corrects himself dazedly—is so aesthetically pleasing that Louis is speechless. Dark curly hair, sparkling green eyes and facial features that could cut glass, topping a long, angular yet leanly muscled body that makes Louis want to weep. Or maybe that’s the forty-eighth run through of his class’ favorite Christmas song. It’s hard to say.

The one thing that  _is_ clear is that Louis is fucking freezing.

“Yes, yes, I am, actually, how could you tell? Was it my chattering teeth or the rather blue color of my skin?” When nearing hypothermia, apparently it’s easy to be charming. Even to a boy as intimidatingly pretty as this one.

But the boy only smiles, and before Louis can ask what he’s doing, he’s sliding next to him on the bloody cold bench seat. He wraps a big meaty arm around him, ridiculously large hand dangling near Louis’ collarbone. “Sorry,” he explains with a bit of a hesitant smile. “I was afraid you might actually turn to an ice sculpture before I could learn your name.” He pauses, and the smile brightens considerably. “I’m Harry.”

“Louis,” he says helplessly. He’s already rather endeared.

“Worst case scenario avoided,” Harry says as he snuggles closer to Louis. “Now we just have to share body heat.”

Louis feels faint. It’s possible his rotten Christmas luck is turning. “I won’t tell if you don’t.”

Harry leans in. “Your secret’s safe with me.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> reminder, each chapter is required to be 500 words exactly!
> 
> the prompt for this day's challenge was: candles, cooking and ice crystals

Louis hates to cook.

Actually to rephrase, Louis  _doesn’t_ cook.

The only real explanation for why Louis is cooking right now is that he’s in love and he’s desperate.

He and Harry haven’t fought often since they met on the train to the Enchanted Kingdom, but it does happen and when it does, it’s usually bad. The kind of fight where you scream and cry and throw your phone against the wall and it shatters into a billion useless pieces.

So yeah, they’d fought.

Louis doesn’t even know how it started.

_Wrong_. He knows exactly how it started. It started because Harry, the director of the annual Christmas Pageant at school, came home from work late, seeing as he had rehearsal, and instead of folded clothes and a hot meal, he’d found Louis sitting on the couch playing FIFA.

Louis had had a shit day, and when he’d collapsed on the couch, the last thing in the universe he wanted to do was be a good adult and fold the laundry and stick the casserole in the oven and pick up his shoes.

So he hadn’t. And then Harry had showed up, also in a shit mood—see Exhibit A: Harry is the director of the Christmas Pageant—and had tripped right over Louis’ sneakers.

The horrible row that followed had it all. Yelling. Foisted blame. The occasional curse word.

 Louis had almost been enjoying it—okay, not true, but he  _had_ been thinking about makeup sex. Harry wasn’t as rough as Louis sometimes liked, but getting over a fight usually made Harry fuck him into the mattress like nothing else.

 Louis’ distraction was all Harry needed to send him over the edge and out the door.

He’d come home hours later, smelling like a distillery, and completely disinclined to talk. Louis had been surprised, but he’d expected that Harry would eventually come around.

Two days later, and there’d been no coming around.

Literally  _or_  figuratively.

Which was why Louis has thrown open Harry’s stash of candles—generously distributing them around the dining room—and is currently struggling with the potato masher.

He  _thinks_ the potatoes look okay. Maybe a bit clumpy and gluey, but the masher keeps getting stuck in the mass in the pot and finally Louis just grimaces and heaves them into a serving bowl.

_A serving bowl._ The things Louis will do for Harry.

The front door bangs open and Louis glances up, startled, to see Harry standing in the doorway, ice crystals sparkling in his long, curly hair.

“I cooked,” Louis says, and the words are barely out of his mouth before the smoke alarm goes off.

Harry reaches out for Louis instantly, like he’s a lifeline and cradling his face in his hands, kisses him like he doesn’t care if Louis burns down a thousand flats, ruins every bowl of mashed potatoes he’ll ever make, or never moves his shoes from the entry. He’ll love him anyway.

And it’s enough. It’s more than enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [my tumblr, come say hello!](http://bethaboolou.tumblr.com/)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> prompt for this chapter was: winter wonderland (but NOT using the exact phrase)

Louis has been to the Enchanted Forest about twenty times in the last twenty-five years. Before he got dragged into taking his students, his sisters always used to clamor to go. They love the fake snow and the colorful light displays, the cheap cocoa, candy canes sweet enough to give you a toothache, and even the annoyingly rickety train ride.

Louis has always believed the Enchanted Forest was the wort sort of Christmas consumerism. He’s rolled his eyes at the festively dressed carolers in their matching outfits more times than he can really count.

But tonight, there’s a gloss of something real over the commercialism and that something real is long and lanky and has the most beautiful eyes he’s ever seen in a human face.

“I’ve always loved it here,” Harry says as they tromp through the frozen rain-covered fake snow. Another time Louis might have pointed out the irony, but tonight, the brightness of Harry’s smile stops him.

“Me too,” Louis says. It’s a terrible lie. But Harry’s soft gaze is sweet enough the falsehood doesn’t even feel bitter on Louis’ tongue. It  _isn’t_ really a lie, not tonight. And even though they’re with their classes, Louis fucks all the rules, and reaches out to intertwine his fingers with Harry’s.

Harry’s hand is big and warm and it’s not the cold that’s sending shivers up Louis’ spine as it squeezes his own.

“Gotta keep warm,” Louis points out belatedly, a flush traveling up his cheeks.

Harry’s expression is completely genuine. “I won’t let you ever get cold,” he vows.

Through the winding, pine tree-lined paths, they approach a miniature sized nativity set in a small stable, complete with candlelight. “Silent Night” is playing through the speakers and light is flickering on the curve of Mary’s cheek. A hush falls on the class as they take in the scene. Normally Louis might remark bitingly on the over-manufactured sentimentality of it all. But seeing it through Harry’s glowing eyes helps Louis see it differently too.

He’s not particularly religious but he sees the comfort of two people who love each other and a home they’ve created, out of nothing. The thought tugs at Louis’ heartstrings more than he will ever admit.

“I’ve always wanted this,” Harry murmurs softly.

“A baby in a manger?” Louis jokes lightly, but even he can hear how soft and tender his voice is as he cuddles up closer to Harry. It’s all for body warmth, he tells himself, but deep down he knows better.

“A home.”

Louis’ heart stutters in his chest, and it’s not all the sugar he’s ingested today. “That sounds rather serious, Harold.”

Harry looks down at him, something unbearably precious in his expression. Louis wants to hold up his hands and warm them forever in the light and heat and wonder he sees in them.

“It absolutely is,” Harry says softly.

Louis tightens his fingers around Harry’s, finding he’s suddenly lost his words, his voice. He prays it’ll be enough tonight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [my tumblr, come say hello!](http://bethaboolou.tumblr.com/)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> prompt: hot chocolate with heart marshmallows floating on top.
> 
> reminder: these are 500 words EXACTLY and all of my prompts take place at different times, during the lives of Harry and Louis.

Louis is going tear his hair out.

 

“No! Lucy!” Louis tries to keep his voice to only a semi-screech because Lucy is only eight years old and has the cutest chipmunk cheeks he’s ever seen. But literally if she goes the wrong way again, he’s going to lose some of his hair far, far before its time.

 

“Mr. Tommo?” Lucy asks quietly, her teeth worrying her bottom lip. Louis simply melts. How can he not, when Lucy, a literal angel, also _playing_ an angel, is staring down at him with so much legitimate concern?

 

“Yes, love?” Louis climbs up on stage as he responds, forcing himself to stay calm and not look like he feels on the inside.

 

The thing is—he _knew_ it would be awful. Louis dealt with Harry directing it four years running, and then, when Louis accepted a job at Harry’s school, like all new teachers, the Christmas Pageant fell to him. Basically nobody _ever_ volunteers (for good reason) and the newest teacher is “volunteered” each year. Harry was the newest for the last four, but this year that dubious honor falls to his husband.

 

“I don’t know where to go,” Lucy says plaintively. Which is absolutely a lie, as they have gone over the blocking for the angels about twelve times so far tonight, but there are tears brimming in the corners of Lucy’s bright brown eyes, and Louis is so weak.

 

He’s about to take her hand when a low voice interrupts him.

 

“Problems, Mr. Tommo?” the voice asks. Louis glances behind him to see Harry, a smug grin on his far-too handsome face.

 

Louis takes a deep breath and holds in a laundry list of complaints. He’s in front of the kids and he’s supposed to be professional and treating Harry like a co-worker, not his husband. But before he can answer or further reassure Lucy, Harry steps up.

 

“Lucy, isn’t it?” he asks, dropping to a crouch, his eyes level with hers. “Can we be angels together?”

 

Her smile is so bright, it’s no wonder she was cast as an angel.

 

Louis raises his eyes to the heavens and praises whoever is up there for his wonderful, kind and absolutely generous husband, who is willing to step in just as Louis is about to lose his mind.

 

Returning to the director’s table set up in front of the stage, Louis spies a conspicuously bright thermos that wasn’t there before. Cracking open the bright pink lid, he’s instantaneously seduced by the sweet scent of chocolate. Sipping, he shudders at the rich perfection flooding his mouth. While a cup of tea is always lovely, there’s nothing better than Harry’s hot chocolate with his signature peppermint marshmallows.

 

He glances down at his notes and sees a single pink heart marshmallow as punctuation to an increasingly pessimistic sentence. And like he’s sure Harry meant, Louis feels the load lift off his shoulders.

 

He’s not alone. He’ll never be alone again.

 

Even during the annual Christmas Pageant.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> prompt: elves!

“Remind me again why we do this?” Louis grumbles as he fails for the fifth time to get the screw to stay in bright purple rocking-unicorn so he can mount the head.

 

Harry glances over at him and his face is the picture of happiness—fondness radiating out of every pore.

 

“You know why, Lou,” Harry says softly, because even though Natalie and Hunter are upstairs, they’re both light sleepers.

 

“Christmas is wonderful, lovely, fantastic, etcetera, etcetera,” Louis grumbles back, but his voice hushed and a bit reverent. Before he met Harry, he hadn’t always loved Christmas, but over the years, the holiday has grown on Louis so much that now, it’s one of his favorite times of year. Mostly because he adores the quiet happiness that settles into his husband’s face and spoiling his three favorite people in the universe.

 

“You need some help?” Harry asks, scooting over from where he’s been wrapping a unwieldly football. Louis had insisted on the gift, even though Hunter is only just a year old.

 

“Feel like an elf in Santa’s workshop,” Louis continues to grumble even as he throws Harry a thankful smile for assisting.

 

“Cutest elf I’ve ever seen,” Harry proclaims with a dopey grin after they finally finish screwing the unicorn head on the body. He reaches out to ruffle Louis’ soft fringe. “Only elf in the world for me.”

 

“I’d hope so,” Louis says reaching for his husband. Harry settles into Louis’ lap and even though he’s a bit heavy, Louis never wants him to move. His arms settle around him, his nose tickling as Harry’s hair brushes it.

 

“Love you,” Harry whispers happily. So happily that Louis’ heart practically burns with it. His main goal in life is to make his husband and their family as happy as he can, and as long as Harry’s voice drips with love just that way, he’s perfect.

 

“Love you more,” Louis responds, squeezing him briefly but firmly.

 

Harry reaches over to where he’s been wrapping and unearths two hats from under a pile of wrapping paper scraps. “I even got us hats,” he says and his voice is so pleased that Louis can’t even deny him. But then he sees the choices Harry’s made and can’t help but squawk a bit in protest.

 

“I’m the elf and you’re Santa? That’s hardly fair.”

 

“Love, you’re so small. And you’ve got these cute little ears and nose and hands. You’re positively elf-sized.” Harry settles the hat on Louis’ head, tucking his hair this way and that, hands gentle.

 

“I should be offended by that,” Louis says.

 

“It was either the elf or Mrs. Claus!” Harry protests quietly, wrapping his arms back around his husband after he’s settled the white fur-trimmed red hat on his own head.

 

  
“I’m totally Mrs. Claus,” Louis insists.

 

Harry shoots him a knowing look. Louis gives a tiny groan. “Fine, fine. I’ll be the elf.”

 

“ _My_ elf,” Harry says loyally, reaching up to tweak his nose. “Always my elf.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> prompt was: "Please Come Home for Christmas" by Jon Bon Jovi (tho I prefer the Eagles version myself).
> 
> I couldn't quite work it in as much as I wanted, but Louis is certainly bummed and certainly wanting to see or hear from Harry!

It’s Louis’ birthday. Everything today should be going swimmingly. He should be getting everything he wants. He should be bathing in gifts and all his favorite foods and the admiration of everyone he knows.

 

He’s got the gifts, and the food even, but it’s the last Louis is struggling with.

 

The issue is that Harry—that gloriously pretty, even more gloriously kind boy that he’d met three days ago at the Enchanted Forest—hasn’t called him.

 

It’d been practically been a sure thing that they’d exchange numbers. Except Louis’ phone was somehow dead, an app draining the battery. So Louis given Harry his number, _never_ imagining that he wouldn’t hear from him.

 

Three days later, there’s no word and Louis is losing his mind.

 

“Boo, it’s your birthday. Don’t you want to have some ice cream?” His mum looks down at him, concern etched on her face.

 

Louis shakes his head, his knees drawn tight to his chest. He’s had plenty of boys never call him. Never has he felt so irrationally sad.

 

From the moment Harry had dropped into the seat next to Louis’, the whole affair had taken on a decidedly _fateful_ vibe. There’d been purpose and meaning every time they’d brushed arms, and when Louis had taken his hand, so much of the faith that Louis thought he’d lost had come rushing back.

 

Right now, his faith has never been lower.

 

“You want to tell me about it?” his mum asks, settling next to him on the couch, placing a reassuring hand on his hip. “I’m sure whatever it is, it can be fixed.”

 

“It can’t. Not this,” Louis retorts bitterly. He can’t make Harry want him if he doesn’t.

 

The doorbell rings. “Probably carolers,” Jay observes. “Or maybe Fizzy’s friend Olivia.”

 

Louis doesn’t care if it’s Santa himself, come to force Christmas spirit into Louis’ miserable soul.

Louis hears the door open then hushed voices, but can’t really make out who it is.

 

“Louis!” Jay calls. “Someone here for you.”

 

Louis hesitates. Protests inwardly. But eventually hefts himself up and wrapping himself in Lottie’s old Barbie blanket, slouches to the front door.

 

Harry is standing there, a hopeful smile on his face.

 

Louis just stares at him. Doesn’t even drop the Barbie blanket. Doesn’t even remember he’s wearing the Barbie blanket, really.

 

“You didn’t call me,” he finally says dumbly.

“I know,” Harry says and there’s as much misery in his voice as Louis has been feeling. “I’m sorry. I dropped my phone in the toilet.”

 

“Oh.” It would be a pretty good apology even without the desolation in Harry’s eyes.

 

“I went to your school. Called the emergency line. Convinced them to give me your address. Couldn’t get your number, but figured this might be better.” Harry pauses, hope burning in his beautiful eyes. “Is it better?”

 

Louis drops the Barbie blanket, and wraps his arms around Harry’s warm, solid waist. “It’s better.”

 

“So I’m forgiven?” Harry asks.

 

Like there was ever a question. “Always.”

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [prompt: this picture](http://bethaboolou.tumblr.com/post/134705041260/day-7-25-days-of-christmas-louis-harry-says-in)

“Louis,” Harry says in such a reasonable voice that Louis honestly wants to gnash his teeth. Instead, he returns his attention to the pile of Christmas lights he’s untangling in their driveway.

 

“ _Louis_ ,” Harry repeats more insistently. “Are you even listening to me?”

 

This is a conundrum. Louis loves Harry. Louis never wants to ignore Harry. But Louis also really doesn’t want to discuss this either. He settles for a quick nod.

 

“Louis,” Harry sighs, and that’s the worst. That single word contains so much, but it’s the disappointment that Louis finds hardest to swallow.

 

“You said I could put up lights.” Louis hates how testy he sounds, but frankly, he’s never dealt well with the thought that he’s letting down people he loves.

 

“I know you don’t like Liam,” Harry tries again. Louis might give him full points for the effort, if the effort wasn’t being put forth to change Louis’ mind.

 

“We don’t like each other,” Louis corrects. “He’s an uptight _twat_ , which is exactly the point I’m gonna make.”

 

Harry glances over at the next house over. _Liam_ ’s house. It would be ridiculously Christmas-y, except that every light is exactly where it should be. It’s the most staid yet most outrageous light display that Louis has ever seen, and it’s annoyed him every day this week. He’d come home last night, took another look at Liam’s obnoxious display and told Harry that he’s going to put up their _own_ display.

  
Harry, who is just trying to get on the neighborhood committee, immediately vetoed Louis’ idea. But once Louis makes up his mind, there’s not much changing it. Even Harry Styles.

 

Louis heads up the ladder with his first string of lights.

 

“They’re going to kick me out of the committee,” Harry whines as Louis begins to tack up the first bit of his design. “You can’t have profanity on your display.”

 

Louis finishes the T and moves onto the W. “I hope I have enough for the arrow,” he says, probably more gleeful than is probably wise.

 

“Why?” Harry asks bitterly. Whatever. Those bitches can go fuck themselves, Louis thinks. They don’t appreciate what a gem they have in Harry anyway. “So you can make sure everyone knows who you’re calling a twat?”

 

Louis leans back, examining his handiwork. “Exactly.”

 

“Liam’s rather nice, actually,” Harry tries again.

 

“I don’t care if he’s Santa fucking Claus. I’m still putting up this display.”

 

Louis expects Harry to go back inside any moment now. But when he finally heads back down the ladder, arrow completed, Harry is still there, gazing woefully at the “TWAT” and arrow pointing right at Liam’s house.

 

Harry opens his mouth and Louis is sure he’s gonna rant again about those dumb women on the committee, but instead he bursts into sudden, hyena-like laughter.

 

He stands there laughing for a good minute before he finally collects himself. “Oh, Lou, I love you,” Harry says, brushing a kiss on Louis’ cold cheek. “ _So_ much. It’s actually hilarious.”

 


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> prompt: ribbons, flickering, bayberry

“Don’t tease,” Harry pants as Louis hovers above him, lips brushing against his collarbone.

 

“No can do,” Louis murmurs into Harry’s soft skin. He smells like bayberry, like he’s been making candles all day—which he has. The cranberry red ones are flickering in their scarlet holders, turning the dim light of their bedroom pink.

 

It’s a scent that Louis loves because it never fails to remind him of sex. Harry’s got a thing for candlelight, especially during those special, “let’s set the mood,” times and whenever Harry spends an afternoon candle-making, Louis can’t help how it works him up.

 

He’d been hard in his trackies most of the day, and Harry had shot him a coy look every time he’d passed the kitchen door. Louis knows what Harry expects on days he makes candles. But well, Louis is _trying_ not to be easy.

 

It turns out that he’s _exactly_ that easy. Which is why he’s naked, currently perched on Harry’s lap, and wearing a hastily tied red ribbon around his neck.

 

“My favorite kind of gift,” Harry gushed, not even a tiny bit of surprise flickering in his eyes. Part of what makes them so good for each other is that as much as Louis wants Harry, Harry wants Louis just as much.

 

“Am I still your favorite gift?” Louis asks slyly as he rotates his hips teasingly, letting his hard cock brush Harry’s just enough.

 

Louis kinda expects Harry to take it back. But that’s another reason why they’re so perfect for each other—the unconditional love they have for each other. “Always my favorite,” Harry insists.

 

Louis’ knees are weak. Six years in, Harry’s love confessions shouldn’t affect Louis like this. He collapses onto Harry’s chest, fingers sliding across his husband’s nipples.

 

Harry grips Louis’ hips and flips them effortlessly enough that Louis would whine but before he can Harry’s mouth is on his and the kiss is hot and slick. When Harry’s fingers brush over his cock, hard and aching in his pants, it’s too hard not to go limp.

 

“Most beautiful present,” Harry whispers as his lips meander towards where Louis is straining in his pants.

 

“Got something better for you,” Louis pants.

 

Harry glances up and their eyes lock. Louis doesn’t understand how his stomach can _still_ flutter when Harry looks at him like that—like he’s the most unbelievably amazing thing Harry’s ever seen. “Nothing better,” Harry says before pulling down his pants and licking up a hot, wet stripe up Louis’ cock.

 

Harry doesn’t tease, taking Louis deep, nudging his cock at the entrance of his throat. He sucks on the head, twirling his tongue around the head in a maddening pattern that has Louis ready to burst.

 

There’s nothing better than Harry’s mouth and Louis moans that as Harry strokes him through his orgasm.

 

“Best present ever,” Louis says when he can feel his toes again. He reaches up and slides the lopsided ribbon onto Harry’s curls. “And it’s all mine.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Had to start the story with the following sentence. __________ double checked their wallet. $10.43 – that was all the money they had to buy Christmas gifts for ____________.

Louis double checks his wallet. Just under seven pounds– that’s all the money he has to buy a Christmas gift for Harry.

 

Normally, he would’ve saved and budgeted for Harry’s gift, as he does with his family, but he’d met Harry far too late this year to even begin. All he’d managed to scrape from his account was seven measly pounds.

 

“Louis, you okay?” Harry asks, squeezing his hand hard.

 

They’re out shopping the deals, and Louis had hoped he’d be able to buy a present today, because they’d agreed on exchanging gifts tonight.

 

The problem was he couldn’t exactly tell Harry, who had been _so_ excited about Louis’ gift—apparently bought before his phone had found the toilet—that he didn’t have the cash to buy him anything nice.

 

Things were so new between them, Louis didn’t want to give Harry any reason to think he didn’t like him, and not giving a worthy gift was sure to give that impression.

 

“Fine,” Louis said breezily, lying through his teeth. “Just need a few minutes to pop into this store.”

 

Harry nods and they arrange to meet in half an hour at the park down the street.

 

Louis spends the next thirty minutes frantically searching through the department store, trying to find something worthy of Harry Styles.

 

The problem is that even if Louis had a hundred pounds to spend, nothing is worthy of Harry.

 

He ends up settling for a sad little package of chocolates.

 

When Louis rejoins Harry at the park, it’s nearly dusk and there’s twinkly lights shining in all the trees and Harry’s curls are glistening, his cheeks a very attractive pink from the cold.

 

“I really like you, you know?” Louis says before Harry even greets him. He shoves the hastily wrapped chocolates into Harry’s gloved hands.

 

Harry doesn’t even glance at the package. “Louis,” he says slowly, “whatever this is, I’m sure it’s wonderful and I’ll like it a lot. But not as much as I like you.”

 

Louis shoves his hands into his pockets and tries not freak out. “Well, open it,” he insists.

 

Harry opens up the bag and makes all the right noises about the chocolates. Even proclaims they’re his favorite kind. Louis is mollified but still apprehensive as Harry curls his hands around Louis’ shoulders.

 

“Can I give you your present now?” Harry murmurs and Louis nods.

 

He doesn’t know what he was expecting, but he certainly wasn’t anticipating Harry leaning in and brushing his soft lips across Louis’ once, then twice. He’s gentle, as if he’s sure that Louis is going to spook.

 

Louis isn’t spooked. He’s just surprised. Shocked, really.

 

“All I wanted to give you, to be honest,” Harry confesses, a blush making his cheeks even pinker.

 

Louis melts into Harry, lining his lips back up with Harry’s and nudging Harry’s chilly nose with his own. “Why didn’t you say so?” he asks impudently and Harry grins before kissing him soundly back.

 

It’s the perfect Christmas gift.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: the following line MUST be included “Come on,” _______ said. “Go Christmas caroling with us. It will be fun!”

“Come on,” Harry says. “Go Christmas caroling with us. It will be fun!”

 

Louis makes a face. “No thank you. It’s freezing; I think it might actually snow.” He gestures to the window in their flat. It’s a shitty flat, but it’s theirs. Besides most of the time when it’s so cold Louis can barely stand it, he has Harry to cuddle him close and keep him warm.

 

Except that Harry is seriously actually considering going outside in this weather to sing Christmas carols. Louis can’t believe it.

 

“That’s what coats and hats and scarves and gloves are for, silly Lou,” Harry trills back, absolutely none of the wind taken out of his sails.

 

Louis pouts. Harry is really going to go outside, in the snow, and leave Louis alone in their freezing cold flat, with no dinner and no hot chocolate and no tea and no big warm body to cuddle with. Positively criminal, Louis thinks.

 

“Don’t pout,” Harry says and his smile is slowly fading. Louis, sensing that Harry is wavering, pounces.

 

“Haz, _please_ don’t go,” he begs, climbing onto Harry’s lap and petting his curls, absolutely no shame. Sometimes Louis wants to win just to win, sometimes to remind himself how much Harry adores him, and sometimes because he just really doesn’t feel like missing his other half.

 

But Harry’s face grows stern after a moment of hesitation. “I promised your mum and your sisters,” he confesses.

 

Louis’ pout grows. “But they’re _my_ mum and sisters!” he exclaims. The real question is how Harry became so close this mum and sisters that they’re planning caroling outings together, _without Louis_.

 

 “Mine too, really,” he admits softly with a bashful grin.

 

And really, the very last thing Louis needs is Harry reminding him of the twist of paper that Harry wound around his finger _last_ Christmas with the promise that after a year of being together, he was never going to want anyone else.

 

Twelve months later, Louis had expected that maybe _this_ Christmas, he might find a more permanent ring than the one he lovingly keeps in a box in the drawer of his bedside table. But instead, Harry is more eager to go caroling with his mum _and_ sisters.

 

He would’ve added _without him_ to Harry’s list of offenses, but Harry had most certainly been begging for him to come along. Maybe he should stop whining, Louis thinks, and just _go_.

 

“Fine, okay, I’ll go,” Louis says impatiently. “But only if you cuddle me when we get back.”

 

Harry shoot Louis a disbelieving look. “I _always_ cuddle you!”

 

“I mean, _really_ cuddle me,” Louis insists as he slides off Harry’s lap and goes in search of his warmest faux-fur lined rain boots.

 

“You don’t even need to ask, baby,” Harry croons as he pulls a knit cap on his head, down over his ears.

 

Louis doesn’t see him slip a small square box into his pocket from _his_ bedside table. But then, Louis loves a good surprise.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> prompt: ice skating!

“Watch out!” Louis yells as Harry and Natalie—essentially _his entire world_ —let go of the railing that’s been set up around the skating rink.

 

“We’re fine, I’ve got her,” Harry soothes, throwing an amused glance at his husband. “I won’t let her fall.”

 

Louis rolls his eyes. “Honestly, not the situation I’m most worried about.”

 

“Louis Tomlinson-Styles, I’ll have you know I’m perfectly steady on these skates.” Harry’s got this cute offended expression on his face. Except that Louis knows he’s not really offended; he loves a good tease far too much. Especially when it comes from Louis.

 

“Daddy,” an indignant voices insists. “I’m _fine_.” Louis leans down and looks at his little girl. Cherubic chubby cheeks, bright green eyes and a tumble of brown curls, she’s the prettiest thing he’s ever seen. He loves her so much his heart squeezes at the thought.

 

Unfortunately—or _fortunately_ , maybe—she seems to have developed Louis’ personality. She’s angelic but terribly precocious, and her looks only convince everyone she’s sweet, only to have them discover the truth much later. Louis would be impressed except that he’s not sleeping because he’s so fucking worried she’s going to get into kind of trouble that he can’t wave away with his magic wand. _And she’s only five._ Louis is not looking forward to adolescence.

“Just want to make sure Papa wasn’t going to fall over, darling,” he reassures her.

 

She nods, appearing to seriously consider the possibility that her Papa isn’t steady on his feet.

 

She’s a smart girl. Harry isn’t the steadiest on his feet when he’s on dry land. On ice, he’s a mess.

 

Natalie must figure this out, because she looks back up at Harry. “Want to go with Daddy,” she decides.

  
Harry groans. “I promise, I promise, I’m not going to fall over this time.”

 

“That you have to say _this_ time,” Louis says, scooping up his girls’ little hand in his. He glances at his husband, already wavering on his feet, and the decision isn’t even a decision. It’s just instinct. He extends his gloved hand towards Harry.

 

Harry takes it with a mournful look.

 

“Smart choice,” Louis teases. “Don’t want to have to take you to the hospital again.”

 

The threesome move carefully along the ice, surprisingly moving in sync considering their different heights.

 

They’re halfway around the rink when Louis hears Natalie pipe up again, in that sweet little voice. “Daddy, I’m tired.”

 

It was inevitable. Louis bends down and picks her up, settling her securely on his shoulder. She squeals in delight.

 

“Daddy, you’re the best!” she shrieks with happiness.

 

“What about me?” Harry asks with an exaggerated pout. They all know Natalie adores him. But it’s fun to pretend that she’s got to backpeddle.

 

She gives him a thorough once-over. “You’re _okay_ ,” she decides after a good long pause.

 

Louis laughs because he can’t really bring himself to cry. She’s going to be a holy terror, but at least she’ll always be _their_ holy terror.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> prompt: "Hey Santa" by Carnie & Wendy Wilson

Louis shrieks, and it’s an unholy sound.

 

“Not this song!” he yells. “Not this song and not today!”

 

Harry smirks. He really, really enjoys winding his boyfriend up. He doesn’t pause the song or skip to the next.

 

“Harold!”

 

He can’t even help the laugh that sneaks out of him. Louis sounds so delightfully distraught, like the song is the worst thing to ever happen to him.

 

“I thought your least favorite Christmas song was ‘Feliz Navidad,’” Harry observes, trying quite hard not to giggle.

 

Louis walks into the living room of the flat they’ve just moved into together. It’s definitely a bit cramped, but already Harry has an archive of beautiful memories they’ve made here together. Louis currently looking like an outraged cockatoo is just another to add to the list.

 

“Why is this damn song still on?” Louis is yelling now and he looks so delightfully pissed off that Harry can’t help but fall into hysterical laughter.

 

Louis is hot all of the time—a small, curvy package with fluffy hair and sharp cheekbones and blue eyes and an arse literally _to die for_ —but he’s never hotter than when he’s angry.

 

Harry loves it when he gets a chance to tease him, because often it’s the other way around. He wouldn’t have it any other way, but it’s still amusing when he can catch Louis off-guard.

 

He finally reaches over and switches it off just as Carnie Wilson gets to the worst part of the chorus.

 

Louis huffs in annoyance and flops onto the couch. Harry’s joins him in about ten seconds flat because that’s how they roll. Harry hasn’t wanted to let go of this boy for longer than a moment since the very first time he put his arms around him on that freezing cold train. He pulls Louis into his lap and they snuggle close.

 

“You’ve never told me why you hate that song,” Harry says.

 

Louis huffs again. “It’s awful and horrible and just _ugh_.”

 

Harry pokes him in the side and Louis buries his face tighter into Harry’s neck. “I used to work at this toy store,” Louis finally admits, the words muffled against Harry’s skin, “and the played it fucking _all_ the time. Over and over. Until I wanted to scream.” He hesitates. “Aren’t you glad you asked? Not a very good story, honestly.”

 

Harry pulls him in even tighter. “Don’t care. Want to hear everything about you. Forever.”

 

He can feel Louis freeze. “I hope that’s okay to say,” Harry says. “I love you so much. It’s only been a year, but it’s been the best year of my life, with you.”

Harry feels some dampness in the crook of his neck but doesn’t mention it because he doesn’t fancy losing a limb. “Me too,” Louis whispers back. “Love you so much.”

 

It’s felt like a beginning from the moment Harry sat next to Louis on the train. But it’s never felt quite as much of a beginning as this.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> prompt: ivy, peace and tradition

“But it’s tradition,” Harry says sleepily. “Need to get up.”

 

Louis can’t really believe that he and his family are crazy enough to have a tradition where they greet Christmas Day, in whatever weather England is gracing them with, at midnight exactly, at the ruins of an old castle in Cheshire.

 

That first year was more of a lark, more of a “we’re going to pretend we’re not old and responsible” sort of outing versus a family-friendly trip they make every year. The first year they went, Louis filled a flask with vodka and they sipped it to keep warm as they laid on their backs beneath the old, ivy-covered walls and stared at the stars.

 

That year it was marvelously clear. There’s been a whole smorgasbord of weather options they’ve experienced since then, but Louis knows it’s supposed to be clear again. It hasn’t been clear in ten years. Also, Natalie and Hunter are currently bouncing on their bed like it’s their favorite trampoline. They could use with some fresh air and some exercise to calm them down before sleep.

 

“It’s going to be clear, love,” Louis whispers to his husband. “No rain. No wind. No snow. No _freezing_ rain, even.”

 

“A blessing,” Harry says. He still sounds tired but Louis can hear the resolve in his voice. They’re going to go. They’ve not missed yet, and it seems this year, twenty-three years since they met, won’t be the first time.

 

They drag their weary bones out of bed, Natalie and Hunter’s voices rising like a happy symphony. They bundle into jackets, hats, scarves and boots. Louis looks at his family as they set out to hike over the rolling hills, and thinks they look more like a family of puff balls than a family of human beings.

 

But they’re _his_ puff balls.

 

It is indeed clear as they make their trek, but it’s also cold. Harry ends up carrying six year old Hunter as they near the old ruins.

 

Louis looks up at the ivy climbing up the old crumbling stone walls and is grateful for so many things, but most of all for this yearly reminder that life is fleeting and its worth enjoying every moment you can.

 

They settle into the open air room, the ceiling long since disintegrated, and stare up at the stars. It’s silent and peaceful, even Natalie’s eight year old chatter finally grown quiet.

 

Louis reaches out and takes his husband’s hand, feeling the warmth of his skin even through two sets of heavy gloves. Hunter snuggles tighter into his side and like every single year, even through sleet and snow and wind and bitter, freezing cold, he’s glad they come. He’s glad he has his family and they have so many memories to relive and to make.

 

“It’s cold,” Hunter says, breaking the silence.

 

Harry laughs. “So like your Dad,” he points out, and the entire foursome dissolves into laughter. And that’s how the time ticks into Christmas Day—with laughter.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Hyde Park's Winter Wonderland

“I can’t believe they shut down the Enchanted Forest,” Harry sighs.

 

Louis looks at him in disbelief. “You had to take a rickety, _freezing_ death trap of a train to get there, and once you did, it wasn’t even the worth the price of admission.”

 

“We _met_ there, Lou,” Harry pouts.

 

“Doesn’t mean that I didn’t see it exactly for what it was. Besides,” Louis says with a grin in Harry’s direction, “if the train hadn’t been so damn cold, we’d never have met.”

 

“I would’ve found some way to talk to the pretty boy with the blue eyes I’d spotted on the platform,” Harry explains with a blush.

 

They’ve been dating three years now, and Harry hasn’t ever admitted this before. Louis is fascinated and says so as they walk, hand in hand, into this year’s anniversary substitute, the Hyde Park Winter Wonderland.

 

“I’ve got to keep _some_ mystery in our relationship,” Harry says.

 

“Well, I didn’t see you until I saw you, and then it was pretty much over for me,” Louis confides back. “Where to first?”

 

Harry consults the tickets. “It’s the Magical Ice Kingdom, then we have Bar Ice.”

 

Louis barely refrains from rolling his eyes. At least the Enchanted Forest had some non-mercenary charm to it. They walk towards the Magical Ice Kingdom and Harry asks, “Do you really mean that?”

 

“Mean what?” Louis asks. “That I was gone for you? Oh most definitely. I was a fool from the moment I saw you, love.”

 

Harry beams. Louis tells Harry all the time how he feels, but he resolves that he’ll do it even more.

 

After giving their tickets, they enter the pavilion hosting the Magical Ice Kingdom. It’s an elaborate setup of various dioramas populated with a selection of ice sculptures. Despite himself, Louis is impressed. He’d liked some of the Enchanted Forest’s worn displays but the ice is skill on a whole other level.

 

“You like it, Harry?” Louis asks as they walk through.

 

Harry shrugs. “It’s good. Just different.”

 

Louis knows how little Harry likes change. He reaches over and grips his boyfriend’s hand. “But change can sometimes be good, yeah? Like when we moved in together. That was change, but it ended up being exactly right.”

 

“Yeah it was,” Harry agrees.

 

They reach the castle, entirely made of ice. Outside, there’s a Cinderella carriage you can actually sit in and take a photo. Harry tugs Louis’ hand and they go sit inside. It’s pretty magical with the colored flights flickering, even Louis can admit that.

 

It’s even more magical when Harry strips off Louis’ glove and slides a twist of paper—their ticket, Louis is assuming—onto _the_ finger.

 

“Harry?” Louis asks with wonder, glancing into the loving green eyes of his boyfriend.

 

“Not quite yet, Lou,” Harry says slowly, “but soon.”

 

Marriage will certainly be a change, but Louis thinks from the radiant glow in Harry’s eyes as he nods his assent, it’ll be a change Harry can live with.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> prompt: the movie, It's a Wonderful Life, and the quote: "Every time a bell rings, an angel gets its wings."
> 
> (this is horribly angsty. sorry, not sorry).

It goes like this.

 

Louis shivers on the train to the Enchanted Kingdom. He’s wet from the freezing rain on the platform, and can’t warm up.

 

Nobody slides into the seat next to him and heats him with their body and their inner light.

 

He walks around the Enchanted Forest and doesn’t try to see it from a different perspective. Doesn’t lose that cynical, slightly bitter edge that he’s been cultivating for the last year. Feels like something is missing, hesitating just outside of his vision, teasing him with happiness and love. But never manages to put his finger on exactly what it is he’s missing.

 

He goes home to his empty flat and in the lonely new year, his bitterness propagates. His mum grows concerned by the summer when he hasn’t dated.

 

He works and doesn’t even find the same joy in the children anymore because the chances of his own seem so distant. There’s a gloss of ice over his mind and his heart, keeping out the joy that seems to float around. Everyone else absorbs it, but he seems perpetually stuck, _frozen_ , and he can’t seem to drag himself out of the rut.

 

Two years go by and he takes a job in America. His mum and sisters are devastated but Louis can’t be around them without feeling the aching empty void of his own misery more acutely. So he avoids them, and finally he takes the final step and moves away.

 

America isn’t any better. Louis moves on from a glass of wine a night to a cocktail to just a bottle of whiskey that he drinks down while grading papers.

 

He turns thirty before he even realizes it, and it’s a bleak realization that he’s no closer to a happy ending than he was at twenty-three.

 

He moves back to England, but it doesn’t help.

 

He goes on dates. It doesn’t help.

 

He moves deeper into despondency and alcohol. He’s let go from one school, then another. He can’t seem to get another job, and he moves into his younger sister’s house, becoming that creepy, weird uncle that hides bottles wrapped in brown paper under his pillow.

 

His forty-first Christmas finds him on a bridge. It isn’t hard to reach the edge. It’s just hard to take that last step off, but he finally screws up the courage to quit living his despondent barely-existence. He’s lifting his foot when a hand shakes his arm. He glances back, but there’s nobody there.

 

The arm won’t stop. It pulls and demands. Then the voice joins in, cajoling him. “Daddy,” it cries.

 

Louis wakes in a cold sweat, his husband lying asleep beside him, and his daughter tugging on his arm. “Daddy,” she whispers, “did you have a bad dream?”

 

He scrubs a hand over his face and can’t even face what he just saw. “A little, sweetheart.”

 

“Daddy, you left the movie playing. Did you know that every time a bell rings, an angel get its wings?”


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: giving, charity, peace

“You know, charity starts at home,” Louis mumbles breathily as Harry’s tongue slides and circles teasingly around his hole.

 

Just as he was actually getting going, Harry pulls away and Louis groans loudly. “What was that, _Lewis_?” Harry asks with a lewd slurping noise as he returns to Louis’ arse. Louis moans pathetically as Harry continues go slow and soft and hesitant when all Louis wants, cock currently dripping onto their duvet, is for Harry to prep and fuck him, hard and fast and amazing as always.

 

“Harold,” Louis whines piteously.

 

Harry doesn’t respond, just slides a wet finger alongside his tongue, giving him exactly what he needs. Louis moans into the pillow that’s already wet with spit. Louis can’t find it in himself to give a shit; Harry’s been coaxing him along an increasingly desperate road for nearly an hour and Louis want to be filled more than he wants to breathe.

 

Louis knows better than to plead because it doesn’t ever hurry Harry. He’ll fuck him when he’s good and ready. But that doesn’t mean Louis doesn’t make a show of it anyway, writhing on top of the covers, swaying his ass in the air as Harry slides another finger deep. Louis whimpers with pleasure as he spreads the long digits and brushes his prostate. It feels so good he wants to cry.

 

Just when he’s resigned himself to waiting for that third finger, Harry surprises him with it, squeezing it in just as he gives a sharp hard slap to the meat of Louis’ arse.

 

It doesn’t help to beg, but Louis can’t help it. “Please,” he groans. “Please, Harry.”

 

“Gonna take care of you,” Harry responds, voice deep and gravely. “Love you so much, baby.”

 

He pulls out his fingers and Louis feels so empty for a moment, but then Harry’s cock is sliding inside him. The feel of him bottoming out brings both absolute peace and a ferocious desire to never let Harry leave this exact spot.

 

He babbles just as Harry spreads a soothing hand up his back. And as Harry likes to do, couples that with his first _hard_ thrust. It’s a mix of pleasure with a hint of the roughness that Louis craves; a balance of sweet and salty, the angel and the devil.

 

Harry alternates between sharp, hard thrusts and slower deeper ones, and then pauses for a moment to just grind against Louis’ prostate. He’s whining and wrecked and can barely breathe as the orgasm coils tight and hard in his belly.

 

The tension breaks when Harry leans in and coos in his ear how much he loves him, how lovely he is, how sweet and giving, right as he delivers a stinging smack to his arse. It’s enough to send him right over the edge, Harry following right after with a filthy moan.

 

They have great, amazing, _transcendent_ sex, but Louis’ favorite part is almost always after, when they clean up tenderly and hold each other tight and close.

 


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> prompt: Secret Santa!

As a parent, Louis Tomlinson believes in giving his kids whatever they want most.

 

Even when his youngest, Hunter, gets the crazy idea in his head that the family needs to do Secret Santa.

 

They’d had a Secret Santa at school, and the thing about Hunter is he’s so like Louis. When he finds something he likes, he can’t get enough. He’ll gorge himself on it. This basically explains why Louis has barely let Harry out of his sight in the last fourteen years.

 

Well, Hunter is the exact same way. It’s uncanny and a bit annoying, but Louis finds he can’t complain because Hunter is _his_ —in so many ways. So when Hunter requests that the family hold a Secret Santa, Louis is powerless to say no.

 

Harry’s barely been home when Hunter whips out one of Natalie’s old lunchboxes—this one is purple glitter with My Little Pony on the front—and insists they all draw names.

 

Louis meets Harry’s questioning gaze across the table and like they can, Louis tells Harry to _not say a word_. It doesn’t matter that they’re only four of them, and the chances of one of them getting their own name is not only high, it’s _likely_.

 

Fate must be smiling at them, because nobody does. But when Louis reaches his hand in and draws his husband’s name, there’s a certain kind of poetry in this. He never tires of showing Harry how much he loves him. Now it’s practically a requirement.

 

The next morning, when Louis wakes up Harry with a mouth on his cock, a jaunty bow perched on his head as he blows him, Harry guesses pretty much right after he comes that Louis drew his name.

 

“Harold,” Louis sniffs, wiping his mouth. “I don’t even know what you’re referring to.”

 

But Harry’s enormous grin is proof enough that he knows when Louis is lying.

 

Louis makes dinner the next day, and feigns innocence when Harry confronts him.

 

“Louis, there’s a bow on this roast,” Harry says patiently.

 

“It’s decorative,” Louis argues. After dinner, he helps Hunter make cookies for his older sister, complete with pink sprinkles—“But pink is Natalie’s favorite color!” Hunter protests when Louis suggests a more festive color scheme.

 

Louis wasn’t convinced Secret Santa was even feasible with their small family. But he changes his mind when he sees how much Natalie enjoys her cookies, sharing them with her friends when they come over on Friday night; when he sees Hunter smile at the chore board, all his tasks checked off by his sister; when he sees Harry beam at his favorite chocolate bar sitting on his desk; when Harry surprises Louis by packing his favorite lunch.

 

Secret Santa is a wonderful reminder that they have the best family ever. It’s not even a surprise when they reveal each other, but it doesn’t matter, because they’re smiling and laughing a moment after, a big pile on the soft living room rug.

 

Louis adores his family.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: a cookie exchange!

“Harry, you need to calm down,” Louis pleads.

 

“This party is a big deal,” Harry says, his own gaze imploring his boyfriend to understand.

 

“I know, I know, Harry. It’s the first party we’re throwing together. In our new flat.” Just the words send a wave of excitement and happiness flooding through Louis. How did he manage to get so lucky?

 

Louis leans over the counter and takes in the cookie stations that Harry designed all over their tiny kitchen. “I just. . .” Louis hesitates, the same concern he’s had from the beginning reaching critical mass. “Maybe we should have just had a regular Christmas party? You know, cheesy songs and ugly Christmas jumpers and vodka?”

 

Harry looks up, shock etched on his features. “Louis,” he says slowly, “everyone loves a cookie exchange.”

 

Louis doesn’t think that’s exactly true, but he doesn’t ever want to see that bewildered hurt in Harry’s eyes ever again so he shuts his mouth.

 

Unfortunately, an hour later, Louis is wishing he hadn’t been so quick to give up on the idea of a party conversion.

 

His best friend Liam is staring at the icing bag, array of sprinkles and bare, festively-shaped cookies in front of him like has no clue what to do with any of the above items. Which is definitely true.

 

Niall had showed up with a twelve pack of beer and had stared longingly at it as Harry had carted it to the fridge and had poured him a mug of hot cider instead. Niall has currently eaten through three quarters of his bare cookies, but surely Harry can’t be surprised at that.

 

Harry comes over to where Louis is sitting, diligently spreading green icing on Christmas tree cookies because he loves his boyfriend very much and since this is what Harry wanted, this is what Harry is getting.

 

“Lou,” he hisses melodramatically. “I think the party’s a failure.”

 

Louis looks up and contemplates lying for about five seconds. But he can’t. Nobody is even talking. They’re either pulling a Liam or a Niall and it isn’t pretty.

 

So he shrugs. “Sorry babe. Wrong crowd for a cookie exchange maybe?”

 

Harry stares at him like he’s a lifeline. “Please tell me you have cheesy Christmas songs and a hideously ugly jumper and some vodka hidden away somewhere in this flat.”

 

“I do,” Louis confirms. Because he could see this coming from about ten miles away. He only wishes Harry hadn’t had to learn the hard way when this party meant so much to him.

 

“Get them,” Harry says and there’s that mournful note in his voice. The sad edge that Louis wanted so much to avoid.

  
“Babe,” Louis says softly, “it’s fine. It’s entirely salvageable. I promise.”

 

Harry leans over and kisses him on the cheek. He smells like sugar and vanilla. Louis will throw a million Cookie Exchanges if Harry always smells like that.

 

“ _Now_ ,” Harry repeats a little louder. “Before Niall can eat every cookie in the flat.”

**Author's Note:**

> [my tumblr, come say hello!](http://bethaboolou.tumblr.com/)


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